According to my Calculations
by SeptemberWriter
Summary: Friday night and the team is at O'Malley's


"I am NOT drunk, sir."

General Jack O'Neill snorted. "Yea, right, you keep telling yourself that," he nodded as he tipped his beer bottle toward her. "You're three sheets to the wind."

Lt. Colonel Samantha Carter sat back, stunned. She wasn't drunk. She looked around her; O'Malley's, as usual, was packed; it was a Friday night and time to let off some air force, marine, and army steam. The music was getting louder as was the laughter. Some of it was real, most of the noise felt forced. Within the next hour, she knew, the fights would break out.

She leaned in closer to her Commanding Officer and whispered into his ear. "Sir, trust me on this, within the next five minutes, possibly six minutes, someone is going to either buy Daniel a drink or ask him to dance." She nodded conspiratorially to him; they both looked at Daniel, who was sitting across from them.

"What," he said, tentatively taking a sip of beer and started to fidget. He clearly didn't like the current conversation. Teal'c remained silent as Sam and Jack's eyebrows cocked and continued to look, no stare, at him.

Sam sat back into her chair, obviously proud of what she just revealed. The minutes ticked by, the team waited impassively. Sam frowned and looked at her watch. "Is my watch broken?" She shook her wrist and held the watch up to her ear; confirming it was still working. She didn't know why she did that, it was a digital watch after all. She shook her head in dismay. "What time do you have?"

"Forget it," she said before anyone could answer. "I calibrated it against my watch."

Daniel raised his eyebrow as he tipped the bottle of beer to his lips.

"Okay," she paused, listening to the hum in her brain, "plus or minus one percent." Looking directly at the General, "that translates to between one or two minutes, sir."

"Whatever, Carter."

Sam dropped her head while she watched the second hand on her watch tick around and around the watch face. "One, two, three," she whispered.

"Hi, um, er, Daniel" a female voice said behind Sam. "Care to dance?"

Daniel blinked. "Hey, Rachel, that would be nice. Sure." He got up, "see you later," and walked with Captain Donovan to the dance floor.

Sam clenched her fist, signifying sweet victory to her teammates. "Awesome," she gloated, feeling very satisfied with herself, "another successful experiment."

"Uh-huh." O'Neill peered darkly at her, took a swig of beer. He didn't take his eyes off her.

She caught his look and smirked at him, shrugging her shoulders obliquely.

"Colonel," he drawled, "why do you do that?"

Carter smirk grew wider. "It's what I do, sir. I calculate." Sam took another long draught of her beer. "I can't help what my brain needs to do, and over the years, I've come to appreciate how much it amuses me. It is like my very own parlour trick and nobody gets hurt." She finished her beer and let the bottle thump on the table loudly.

She let out a small belch. "'Cuse me."

Teal'c and O'Neill continued to stare at her. Shaking her head, "c'mon guys, you know, it's what I do: enter the variables, calculate, evaluate the results. If necessary, make a minor adjustment or two, and,"

"You mean you guess," O'Neill interrupted and pointed his beer bottle at her.

"I do NOT guess," she snorted, "sir." She tipped her chin down, "I always allow for the wild card." Sam lowered her voice and leaned closer into her O'Neill's personal space. "It's the adjustments, it's the wildcard variables that are the trickiest." Sam nodded knowingly, obviously continuing the conversation on in her head while she confided in teammates.

"Uh-huh." Jack signaled for her to drink up.

Sam drank absently; she looked at the beer; she didn't remember ordering another one with this round, but was grateful she had a cold beer in her hands. Shaking her head, "where was I, again?"

"You were going to tell us about the variables, Carter."

Another long swig and another loud thump on the table. "Do you want me to list them as weighted co-efficients or alphabetically, sir?"

"Dealer's choice. Carter, what are the variables?" he asked gently.

Sam hummed quietly, blinking slightly, and shook her head slightly.

"Carter," he nudged her, "the variables."

"Oh, yes, sir. Standard variables for Daniel's equation: time of year; weekday; time – not as important as you might think. I've found that if I keep time limited to a 4-hour window, the results are the same." A slight pause as she reviewed the material she just presented. "Oh, and of course, where. That one is the most important."

"'Where' is the most important?"

She looked at O'Neill, pleased that he grasped the nuances of what she just imparted on them. "Yes, sir, for Daniel, it is." She glanced around her. "Oh, and here are the wildcard variables that are co-dependent: one – does Daniel tussle his hair; two – does he take off his glasses and rub his eyes; or three – does he take off his glasses and pinch the bridge of his nose." Satisfied, she leaned back and giggled.

O'Neill waits in silence. She finishes her beer and sits at the table, peeling the beer label off her bottle. She studies him intently and then looks to Teal'c.

Teal'c tilts his head and remains silent.

"And…?"

Sam smiles brightly. "I knew you would understand. If Daniel takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose, it's no-go."

"No-go?" A raised eyebrow. "What the hell does that mean?"

Her smile quickly turns into a scowl and grimaces, "Oh. That," she emphasizes, "happens far too often. Daniel needs to find someone." She pauses to confirm they are still with her. "Oh, sir, to clarify, no one will ask him – it's, ugh, not a chick magnet thing. More like the kiss of death."

"Uh-huh," he signals for another round, "and what about the other two wildcards?"

"Tussled hair – one hundred percent"

"Meaning?"

"Daniel will have sex."

O'Neill chokes on his beer. "Excuse me?"

"No, correction, Daniel will get the opportunity to have sex. He doesn't always follow-through, though." Shaking her head, "that boy, you gotta wonder sometimes." Grimacing, Sam continues, "I am working on the co-efficients for that; but right now I only have a twenty-three percent success rate." Sam sighed, "I'm not prepared to share that equation just yet, sir. I am missing some very important variables; I'm not even sure I have all of them, and I need to keep experimenting to see which ones are the right ones."

"Carter."

Sam looked up at her commanding officer with bleary eyes. "Yes, sir?"

O'Neill scrubs his face and runs his fingers through his hair, "Carter."

"Oh, taking his glasses off and rubbing his eyes: fifty percent - at best." Sam continued to twirl her beer bottle in her hand. By magic, the beer bottle was cold and full. She took a long draught. "It's gotta be the dance. I think I should add that to the equation as well."

The three of them sat in silence.

"Daniel tussled his hair while we waited for our beer." Sam scanned around the bar, looking at all the patrons. "Where is he, by the way?"

"He left with Captain Donovan ten minutes ago," replied Teal'c.

Sam eyes crinkled in laughter. "Way to go, Daniel."

"Okay, sunshine, time to get you home. You've had way too much fun tonight."

"Yes, sir. You know, I really do need to add the dance variable into Daniel's equation.

"Yes, Carter, you do need to do that. Now get up and let's go."

Carter finished off the last of her beer and the three of them stood to leave. O'Neill and Teal'c kept Sam between them and gently guided her out the door.

Outside was quiet and din of the bar disappeared as the wooden door closed. Sam glanced at the stars above. "Beautiful," she said.

"Okay, Carter, I gotta ask, what other equations do you keep in head to amuse you?"

"Sir?" she paused. "I have lots of equations running around in my head."

"I believe O'Neill is referring to your 'parlour trick' equations Colonel Carter."

"Oh," she giggled. She patted them both on their chest. "Don't worry, I have equations for the both of you as well."

O'Neill and Teal'c looked at each other, nodded in resignation to each other and sighed deeply.

"Of course you do, Carter, of course you do."

Carter smiled wickedly at the General. "Next time, when I AM drunk sir, I will share those equations with you." Sam got into his truck, followed by Teal'c. "It really is just a matter of calculations, sir."


End file.
